


Breakfast

by Jaeh



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Breakfast, Drabble, Episodes 159-160, Ficlet, Fluff, JON IS FILIPINO, Jon can cook, Jon is half-Filipino, Like it's really bad you guys, M/M, One-Shot, Scottish cottage, and soft, jon takes care of martin, seriously this is just fluff, soft things, super fluffy, teeth-rotting fluff, unbetad we kayak like Tim
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-14
Updated: 2020-10-14
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:07:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27003226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jaeh/pseuds/Jaeh
Summary: Jon takes care of Martin, and makes him some breakfast. That's literally it. It's just pure softness.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Comments: 10
Kudos: 125





	Breakfast

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thevorpalsword](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thevorpalsword/gifts).



> because I'm the sort of person who has 20 projects going on and still asks someone to give me a prompt so I can write live during my work break. Thanks to folks in our 18+ TMA Discord Server found here if you are interested! It is NOT the official server, obviously, and it is 18 AND ABOVE ONLY I can't stress the age enough, guys. 
> 
> anyway here u go

For the first time in a long while, Jon had woken up to actually see the sunrise, instead of just managing through the cool darkness of far-too-early mornings he always had working at the Institute. Getting out of there certainly made a difference - he felt less antsy here somehow, less observed. Less watched. He wasn't sure how long this peace was going to last but he was going to enjoy it while he can.

He turned to his side, stretching a little.

There he was. Martin. The other man was tangled in sheets, one hand splayed above him as he slept on his stomach, snoring softly. Jon smiled.

In the back of his mind, he knew that there was a lot to face, a lot that he'd left behind, and they were bound to catch up on him. But here, in this cottage, in their little bubble, well, it all felt far, far away.

Jon carefully slipped out of the bed and sat on its edge, carefully considering.

He had never been the best at taking care of others, or even himself. Georgie would (had, never will again) tell him before that it was like when it rained self-preservation he was sleeping in a cave, and this somehow extended to his incapacity to know how to do it to others. His grandmother had been exasperated with him as a child, too.

He wondered, sometimes, if this was an act he was meant to have learned along the way. Was it? He never quite did get the hang of it. There wasn't really... There wasn't anyone that needed him, that wanted his care.

He looked back at Martin again. The man was now on his back, ginger curls framing his face, and Jon couldn't resist giving him a kiss on the forehead.

Martin had been so good to him. Tea, almost every day in the Archives, no matter how horrible he used to be. The way he asked about Jon's morning - it went beyond politeness, he actually _cared_ and wanted to know. The way he patched Jon up after Jude, Daisy - after _Nikola_ , and how he waited for him to wake up... And how he basically sacrificed himself to the Lonely to try and keep Jon safe.

The least Jon could do, really, is to make breakfast.

Jon left their room and made his way to the small kitchen. It had everything they needed in the way of cooking - Jon was surprised that Daisy even had an oven there. It was surprisingly well-stocked with the proper appliances, and after Martin and Jon had done the shopping yesterday, they could live in relative comfort for a while.

Jon tugged at the oversized jumper he'd stolen from Martin. Albeit nice, it was a chilly morning, and he knew that something warm would be _perfect_. An old recipe niggled at the back of his head, pushed further forward by the Eye, and he remembered.

He got the rice, chicken, some bouillon cubes, garlic, ginger, onion, and scallions, then got to work.

Before long, the lovely aroma of what Jon had always associated with _home_ filled the air. His knife skills were a little rusty as he hadn't cooked in a while - being kidnapped by various entities would do that to you, he mused mirthlessly - and had been living on takeaway almost exclusively. If the Archivist's expense account didn't exist he would be broke and starving for food before he even figured out that he needed statements to fill up the gnawing hunger in his soul.

The rice and chicken boiled away, and he made sure to put in just a dash of fish sauce and some black pepper to complete the flavor. When it was done, he carefully ladled some of the rice porridge out into two bowls, and sprinkled green onions on top.

"I didn't know you can cook."

Jon turned, and watched Martin shuffle in, rubbing his left eye under his glasses. There had been no time to grab Martin's contact solution, so he had to make do.

Honestly, Jon preferred him in glasses. Something about him looked warmer and vulnerable somehow, in them, not that Martin needed any more help in that respect.

It just... Fit him.

"My grandmother would be ashamed of me if I can't," Jon responded with a smile. He squeezed a lime on top with a flourish, then Jon pushed the bowl towards Martin's side of the table, and handed him a spoon. " _Arroz Caldo_. Filipino rice porridge."

"It looks and smells amazing, Jon," Martin said. "Let me put the kettle on and-"

"No!" Jon said. He went towards Martin, and sat him down at the table. "I'll make it. I can do it."

"But Jon-"

"Let me do this, Martin. I can do this," Jon insisted, almost pleaded. "Please. Let me take care of you for once."

Martin smiled widely. "I... Thank you, Jon." He looked down at his bowl shyly. "This is... This is nice. I've never been... People don't usually..."

"Well, now you have me, and I want to," Jon said. "If you'll let me."

Martin looked up. "Okay. But, Jon-"

"No buts, Martin - I can do this."

"I know, I know you can, thank you," Martin said, and gestured at the kettle. "But you... Well, you may be able to cook, but you can't make a proper cup of tea. May I do the honors, at least for this one?"

Jon couldn't help it. He laughed, harder than he'd had in years, and Martin grinned. "Teach me? So I can make you a proper cuppa, next time?"

"Sure, Jon," Martin said, as Jon took him by the hand and handed him the kettle. "Sure thing."


End file.
